A Descent Into Madness
by CSIphoebe
Summary: What if, in a dark turn of events, the Dragonborn had absorbed Alduin's soul after his defeat in Sovngarde? The World-Eater had a destiny of his own after all, and who was she to stand in his way?
1. Chapter 1

Note: After having to restart the game three times due to game-breaking glitches, I have finally finished Skyrim. This idea came to me during the final battle in Sovngarde, and it is based around the (slightly unrelated) quote "You either die a hero, or live long enough to see yourself become the villain" by Harvey Dent in The Dark Knight. It may be a shot in the dark, but I hope it works. Any parts in dragon language are translated at the bottom of the chapter. Constructive criticism is welcome as I honestly do not know if I'm going about this idea in the right way. Anyway, enough rambling- thank you for reading!

Disclaimer: I do not own Skyrim or any of the characters in this story other than my version of the Dovahkiin, who I suppose is my creation. Skyrim belongs to Bethesda.

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Chapter One: Ava

Ever since my feet touched down on the stone steps, I hadn't stopped running. My muscles screamed in protest and old wounds reopened, but I did not rest. I couldn't. Not here. Not yet.

Had my situation been a little less perilous, I may have stopped to admire the vibrant colours etched into the skies, but when the bane of Men and Mer's existence on Nirn is swooping through said skies, your mind is brought back to the task at hand, no matter how unpleasant it may be. Thick, almost impenetrable fog litters the path I follow with haste, and I stumble blindly into the lost souls scattered within it. I recognise their faces, but cannot pin a name to them. They are lost to my world, and if I do not put an end to Alduin's tyranny swiftly, I will join them.

I do not need to hear it from Tsun to know that I do not belong here. I am neither dead nor a Nord; I have no place in this realm. I manage to bargain my way across the bridge, somehow convincing the giant of a man that this lithe Imperial woman standing before him is the so-called saviour of Skyrim. At first I thought this.. _Dovah sos*_.. was a trick the Divines were playing on me, but as years went by, I had to face the truth. I had escaped my execution for a reason, and it was that reason that brought me here today.

His deafening roar pierces the serenity around me as I near the great doors. He is getting impatient. He could have ended my life on countless occasions before, and vice versa, but why now, of all times? Why drag out this torturous game for so long? I was beginning to crack under his pressure, and he knew it. It was as clear as day. In this deadly game of fate, he was the predator, and I was the prey.

My mind fails to register what is transpiring around me and before I know it, I am desperately trying to clear the dense fog encasing the sky with three Nord warriors I scarcely recognise. I know he's watching us, and I can almost imagine the sadistic grin plastered across his dagger-like teeth. The haze clears and he lands; his collision with the ground beneath him staggers us all. I draw my sword and look at him eye to eye, his blood red irises boring into mine. He is the reason I survived Helgen, and yet, I am destined to destroy him before he can fulfil his own sinister purpose. Fate is a perplexing and cruel thing to have placed on your shoulders.

The fight rages on. My arms burn from exhaustion and the flames that licked my skin only moments ago, and my legs almost buckle under the weight of my body. With every slash of my sword against his scaled form, I grow weaker, constantly fighting the darkness ebbing into my mind. If my efforts are having any affect whatsoever on his strength, he doesn't show it.

Our movements become repetitive and synchronised; a deadly dance between the Dragon and the Dragonborn. Blood coats my armour and his wings, and I am unsure of exactly who it belongs to. With my voice raw from shouting, my hacks become more violent, desperately trying to break through his ebony scales and end this battle quickly. I see his movements become arduous and sluggish, and I am suddenly filled with the energy I need to end this once and for all. Another douse of flames spill from his maw and I roll against the ground to avoid their fiery embrace. He tries to take off, but his wings, twisted and bloody, keep him pinned to the ground and he screeches in what I can only assume is frustration and pain. It is no honourable way to die, no matter who, or what, you are.

Our dance finally draws to an end when my blade plunges into his neck. He thrashes about, frantically trying to knock me over. The impact of his tail crushing against my side knocks the air out my lungs and my grip on the sword tightens, driving deeper into the flesh. The dragon beneath me shudders and collapses, dragging me down with it. He doesn't fight back; instead, he merely watches as I withdraw the sword and move to face him. A word slips through my mouth as I stand before him, drenched in sweat and blood. _"Krosis"*_. With all the remaining energy I can muster up, I drive the weapon into his skull and everything falls silent.

We wait with bated breath, all eyes transfixed on the crumpled body in front of me. An eerie silence surrounds us all as we wait for something to happen, but it never comes. They applaud my efforts and I hear their chanting as they walk away from their victory, but something is not right. The World-Eater is dead, and his corpse simply lies there on the ground. No flames? No disintegration? No proof that he is in fact defeated? Nothing.

And that's when it hits me.

An immense force slams in my chest and I fall to my knees in agony. Swirling black mist rises from his form and rushes into my own being, drawing a scream of pain from my throat. I can feel everything; hear every thought he ever had. The darkness tears through my body like a plague and it seeps into my veins. My mind becomes fogged and the sound of the heroes' chanting is drowned out by my own erratic heartbeat in my eardrums. I try to get up and run in an attempt to get away from this..this thing, but my legs do not respond. I am paralysed in this position until this ordeal is over.

As the last dregs of mist seep into my body, I am left exhausted and shaking on the ground. Blood rushes to my head and my vision blurs. I can feel the tempting pull of unconsciousness beckoning me, and I give into it, letting it wash over my body and pull me away from this desolation. It's over.

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*Dovah sos- Dragon blood


	2. Chapter 2

Note: This story will contain chapters written in both Ava and Vilkas' POVs in an alternating pattern. If you've stuck with this story and reviewed it, thank you- I really appreciate the advice. I do apologise for missing one of the translations in the previous chapter- I suppose that's what I get when I try to finish something in a rush!

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Chapter Two: Vilkas

When someone goes missing for three years, you eventually have to accept the fact that they may well be dead, regardless of how much you try to push that thought out of your mind. It has been three years since Alduin was slain; three years since we first heard the cries of victory, and three years since I last saw her face. As years passed and her absence lingered, one by one we gradually admitted that our initial fears were in fact correct. She wasn't coming back. I was the last to reach this realisation; my clouded mind completely refusing to even consider the idea that our harbinger had met her end whilst defeating the World-Eater. But after years of waiting for someone to walk back in through the doors, you ultimately give up.

The halls of Jorrvaskr are now home to a silence that refuses to dissipate. Even the rabble of the whelps cannot drive it away, leaving the rest of us to suffer its gloom while it serves as a constant reminder of the woman that was once our harbinger. Years ago, I would have chided myself for becoming this weak and dismal, yet now I can no longer gather the energy to snap myself out of this stupor.  
We were left leaderless for a time, during which we let carelessness and disorder rule the halls, eventually leading up to the day when one of us had to step forward to take over her role. I reluctantly filled the gap she left, but it did not help. For someone who was only with us for a brief period of time, she left a lasting impression that could not be bested.

The beast within me stirs in anger and grief, much to my chagrin. My blood boils at the memory of her and I bite back the animalistic sound that threatens to tear from my throat. It has been growing more restless day by day, ever since all my hopes of gaining access to Sovngarde after death perished along with Ava. No freedom, no cure, nothing. She was supposed to be my way of escaping the sleepless nights, the crippling bloodlust and the constant battles with my inner demon, but none of that matters anymore. When the time comes, I will die as a monster. There's no escaping that now. Unless…

It is sheer desperation that compels me to make the journey to Breezehome. I am too lost in my thoughts to hear my brother's concerned questions or the complaints of the market-goers I run into during my foolish sprint to the house, and for a moment I do not care. I know this journey well, and I do not need to think about the direction I am running in, for I have been down this path countless times before. Soon enough, the house in question towers above me. Its derelict features and musty windows almost repel me, but I have to do this. I _need_ to know. She may be gone, but hopefully my last chance isn't. I pause in front of the door, knowing exactly what I will walk into when it opens. The prospect of being hit with reminders of her is enough to make me turn and run, but it is my own selfish goal that stops me from leaving.  
As I enter the threshold, the reason why the children of Whiterun refer to it as the 'ghost house' becomes apparent. Cobwebs litter the wooden beams that stretch from the stone floor to the ceiling and dust particles hover in the air. The warmth of the hearth is long gone and all that remains are the stale ashes scattered within the fire pit. Her scent still lingers on the musty furniture and assaults my nose with a sense of unwanted commemoration. The house is deserted- it has been for two years. Lydia, like the rest of us, gave up and moved on.  
I pace around the house, the floorboards creaking under the weight of my armour. Whatever calmness I had gathered on my way here is quickly replaced with impatience as I rush from room to room, searching in every cupboard and every chest for the answer to the disease I have grown to hate. More and more dust is released into the air with every object I move in my endeavour. My frustration builds as time passes and my search is deemed unsuccessful; I can feel it radiating off my very being in livid waves. Sinking down onto her bed, I let my head fall into my hands. What vile creature possessed me when I believed this would be a wise idea? The house is empty- everything save a few plates and old tunics has vanished with her. There is no escaping my fate anymore, no alternative way out. It is time to accept the cards I was dealt, just like she had to.

I eventually pick myself up and make my way out of the house and back to Jorrvaskr, albeit reluctantly, for I do not wish for anyone to witness the state I am in now. No one deserves to feel the wrath of my foul mood, especially not my brother. He does not fully understand these things, and I envy him because of that. Ava's passing hurt him, but he has overlooked the prospect of never being cured; he is at peace with his wolf, and it is the thing I envy most about him. His ability to control and manipulate the desire to kill is what I have strived to achieve since this curse was inflicted upon me, and yet my mind is too clouded and restless to reach that stage.  
It is only when I stop by the market square when I hear it; the rumbling bellows of dragons in the distance. People around me start to panic and dash to their houses, determined to escape from this invisible threat. Gigantic shadows suddenly pass overhead, plunging the city into darkness for a brief moment before they soar off towards the Throat of the World. Their scales glisten in the sunlight, and if they did not possess a connotation of death and destruction, I might even consider them to be beautiful in their own right. I follow their path with my eyes, soon straining my neck to gain a better look. One by one they soar up to the highest peak in Tamriel, circling the snow-covered mountain in a repetitive motion; never stopping, never slowing down. They are waiting for something; something they've anticipated for some time.


	3. Chapter 3

Note: First of all, I am sorry about the huge gap between chapters. You would think that being on holiday would free up some time for writing but apparently not. Believe it or not, I've actually had this chapter scrawled down on a notepad for about three weeks now, but I wasn't happy with it. I still don't know if I am. It seems too long for my liking, so I hope it works out alright. Reviews are greatly appreciated, and thank you for sticking around.

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Chapter Three: Ava

I'm falling, spiralling out of control. The darkness that surrounds me has been there for an indefinite amount of time. How long have I been like this? I do not know. I can still feel the fire creeping through my veins, still hear the pained roars and the methodical beating of wings through the air, and yet all I can see is the gloom. Strong winds bite at my skin and pull my hair and I feel my body increase in speed. The howling winds grow louder and louder and I start to feel to icy sting of frost against my cheeks. Without warning, my body hits something and the falling stops.

I awake to the beating of wings echoing through the wintry air surrounding me. As my vision gradually returns to normal, it becomes apparent that I am sat in a crumpled heap atop the Throat of the World. My body aches as I push myself up off the ground and try to stand up straight, which seems to be an impossible task when I stumble forward. It is a deep chuckle that pulls my attention back to my expectant audience. More than a dozen dragons hover in the snowy sky, their beady eyes boring into me. Paarthurnax addresses them and some form of chanting ensues. One by one they circle me and take off in various directions, their wings beating in an oddly calming manner. Their movements kick up snow that spirals around me in the Time Wound, creating a hurricane-like shield that engulfs my scarred body. Paarthurnax himself rises from his seated position on the word wall and lingers in the air above me, gazing down upon me in what seems to be relief with an undertone of sorrow.

"It is done, then? Alduin is defeated. The Eldest is no more."

"I did what had to be done." My own voice falters as the words leave my mouth.

"Geh*, you did. Krosis*. I did not wish to seem… Ahzid*, bitter. Alduin was my brother; forgive me if I do not seem as joyous as others do. Melancholy is an easy trap for a Dovah* to fall into- remember that, Dovakiin*."

"Where do you plan to go?" The sight of him preparing to leave forces yet more pleas from my throat. "Won't you stay here? What am I to do now? Am I just-"

"Relax, Dovahkiin. I will return in time. Alduin's tyranny is no more, and the Dov* are leaderless. It is my time to introduce them to the Way of the Voice, whether they do so willingly or not. Fare thee well, Dovahkiin." Soon enough, only Odahviing and I remain on the mountain.

My destiny has been fulfilled. I am no longer an asset to this world. What am I to do now- sit idly by while others live a life of adventure? My restlessness continues to build until Odahviing's grumbling voice pulls me from my thoughts. "Paarthurnax may have been blind to your state, but I am no fool. You fear what you will return to; what has happened in your absence."

"How long was I in Sovngarde?"

"Three years. Many believe you are dilon*." The sudden impact of his words leaves me breathless. Three years? For three years people have assumed I was dead and then moved on with their lives?

"But… That's not possible! I was gone for a day, two at the most!" My heart rate increases to the point where I can feel it thumping violently against my ribcage. He must be joking, this isn't possible…

"The laws of time are twisted in the land of the dead, Dovahkiin. Paarthurnax feared you may never return."

"There must be a mistake… This-this cannot be right." I begin to pace across the snow covered ground, my mind flitting from one train of thought to another. What of the people I left behind? Did they just forget about me, move on with their lives? Was I just a passing stranger; someone who meant little to anyone, and someone who's death had no mourners? I feel my chest tightening at the thought of those very few I held close to me abandoning all hope of ever seeing me again, or would they even care? Would Vilkas…

"Dovahkiin, you seem…zofaas*. Krent*." I release a sigh.

"Things will never be the same, Odahviing. I do not belong here."

"You say that you have no place in Keizaal*, yet you are joor*, and therefore cannot seek comfort in Sovngarde or Oblivion. Find you place, your drem*, on Nirn, and your worries shall be forgotten." A throaty chuckle escapes his maw. "Such strange words in my mouth. I would ask what you have done to me, but alas I already know the answer. Pitying a mortal? I never thought I would live to see this day." A smile creeps across my own face at his words. "Paarthurnax will return and I shall remain here, ready to assist you if I am needed. You have the soul of a Dovah, more so than before, and you have proven your mastery twice over. Go- return to your home. Find your place once more."

I begin my descent back down the Throat of the World, aching feet carrying my weary body over jagged rocks and snow. The cold air bites at my cheeks and stings my toes but I keep walking. The shadows of High Hrothgar loom over me and etch dark shapes against the snow. I speed up, hoping to reach the warmth of the halls as soon as possible. More snowflakes fall from the night sky and settle on my dark hair, and I shake them out, lest they dampen my already freezing body. My numb hands fumble with the door knobs as I push them open, being hit with a comforting blast of warm air as I do so. The halls are deserted and unusually eerie when I enter and walk around the stone building in my search for Arngeir. I catch a sight of his robes entering the conference hall I had sat it not so long ago, although if what Odahviing said was the truth, it has been years since that day.

As I enter the room, he turns to face me, a look of shock and disbelief on his face. "Dragonborn? So you did not die. It has been so long we started to worry. Please, sit." He motions to one of the chairs around the table and I comply, moving over to it and relieving my feet of the weight of my body. "Does this mean it is done? Alduin is truly defeated?"

"Yes. Alduin is no longer a threat to our world." Relief floods his face as the words leave my mouth, albeit in a shaky manner.

"At last, it is over." Arngeir sighs deeply and moves into the chair directly opposite my own. I can feel his eyes scrutinising my facial expression, looking for a certain emotion I evidently forgot to hide. "You do not seem as relieved as I would have expected, what troubles you?"

"How long was I gone for?"

"Three years. Although, I suspect you already know that/"

"It is hard to comprehend."

"I understand, child. You were hesitant to return to Skyrim in Sovngarde, and still are now. I can see it in your eyes; worry, loss, emptiness. Your destiny may have been fulfilled but you have the power to make a new name for yourself. Whether that is a good one or a bad one is not for me to say, but your future lies before you. Take it while you can." Arngeir pulls himself up out of the chair and I do the same, letting a question I never wanted to ask escape my lips.

"Arngeir?"

"Yes, Dragonborn?"

"When Alduin died, I absorbed his soul, but it was not the same as the other dragons. It _hurt_. It was as though I was falling into an abyss with darkness devouring me from the inside out. Every other soul subjected me to that dragon's emotions, but not like this. His anger burned me, his pain was unbearable. I collapsed and I do not know what happened- something inside me does not feel right." Arngeir looks perplexed as he contemplates my words, his hand coming up to rest on his chin.

"Perhaps Alduin's soul was merely different because of his importance. He was the creation of Akatosh, a legend in his own right. To die like a common dragon would be too simple for someone of his arrogance. All the fury he had withheld for so long found its way into you, a mere mortal. You may have the soul of a dragon, but not even your body is a match for one as large and powerful as Alduin's."

"Do you think he will ever return?"

"Alduin had a prophecy, much like you. Not even the Dragonborn can change the decisions of the gods. He may return in time, although…"

"What is it?"

"Nothing, child. Keep your wits about you and you have nothing to fear. It is only when you stray from the path of righteousness that you need to be concerned." A forced, almost painful smile appears on his face. "You look exhausted. Please, sleep. I cannot even begin to imagine what you have been through." The thought of sleep and a decent meal appeals to my body, but I cannot rest. Not just yet. There is still one place I need to visit before I let go of the old Ava for good.

Helgen. The place where it all began. The fires died out long ago, the buildings look like crumpled versions of their former selves and the screams and shouts of civilians and soldiers are gone, replaced with an eerie silence. I stand before the executioner's block, looking down at the place my life should have ended, but it didn't. I was given a second chance, a chance to do something worthwhile. The last time I was here, I was _normal_. No dragon blood, no Thu'um, no responsibilities. The carefree side of me died the second I escaped, quickly replaced with one of worry. It was a simpler time, though that may be hard to believe, and it is a time I wish had never ended.

Content that the one open door in my life has been firmly shut, I turn away from the block and slowly make my way towards the gates, stepping over the bodies of the bandits that had the nerve to call this place their keep. It is not until my hands rest against the singed wood and go to turn the handles that a voice shatters the silence in my head. A voice I had hoped to never hear again.

_"__Drem yol lok*, Dovahkiin."_

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Translations: 

Geh- Yes

Krosis- Sorry/ apologies

Ahzid- Bitter

Dovah- Dragon

Dovahkiin- Dragonborn

Dov- Dragonkind

Dilon- Dead

Zofaas- Fearful

Krent- Broken

Keizaal- Skyrim

Joor- Mortal

Drem- Peace

Drem yol lok- Greetings


	4. Chapter 4

Note: Thank you again for sticking with this story- I really appreciate the feedback! I apologise for any formatting errors as my computer doesn't seem to want to cooperate...

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Chapter Four: Vilkas

I bury my head in my hands as I glance down at the desk before me. Mountains upon mountains of paperwork, urgent letters and bounties from the Jarl stare up at me from their strewn out positions across the table top. How Kodlak and Ava ever managed to stay on top of it all baffles me to no end. The all too familiar pang in my chest returns at the thought of them and how I came to hold the title of Harbinger of the Companions. It wasn't out of glory, or a celebration of my achievements; it was simply because the two people I relied on the most passed away.

Unwanted memories slowly start to seep into my mind and I am reminded of the day she left three years ago. The words I had shouted in that heated argument, the words I deeply regret, burn their way into my mind like a branding iron. I cannot escape them; they serve as a constant reminder of exactly why she left to face Alduin on that day. She did not react, did not shout or argue back, and did not throw the punch I knew I deserved. She simply stood there and took it all that emotionless expression plastered on her face. It was almost as though the fight had left her completely.

My brother's shouts tear me away from my reflections and for once I am thankful for his intrusion. I open the door to the Harbinger's quarters to alert him of my presence, and he strides down the hall to meet me. "Evening, Farkas. I trust that you are well?"  
"I am, though I have to ask the same of you." Farkas leans against the door frame and briefly assesses my state. "What troubles you?"  
"Nothing." The word leaves my mouth before I can fully understand what I am saying.  
"Now brother, I know as well as you do that that's not true. You are as poor a liar as I am in some cases, whether you would care to admit it or not. I'll ask again: what is wrong?"  
I sigh and run a hand across the stubble that has started to appear across my chin after three days of carelessness. "It is nothing to be concerned about- the stresses of the job." I force a smile. Thankfully, it is enough to fool him.  
"Ah, I see." He grins. "I always imagined being the Harbinger would be tough work. Well, if you ever need a hand, I'm always around."  
"Thanks, brother." It stings to lie to him, but Farkas' innocence and obliviousness to the world is what keeps him smiling, although he does not know it himself.  
"Anyway," He begins, taking another step into the room. "You may want to venture out into Whiterun this evening, y'know- get some fresh air and escape this work for a while."  
"Farkas, it is getting late and…"  
"Just go out Vilkas." He cuts me off and the look on his face says it would be unwise to argue my point.  
"Why?"  
"If a certain rumour is true, you will understand soon enough." For a brief moment I can almost see a sign of sadness in his expression, but it is gone before I can question it. With those last words he turns and exits the quarters, leaving me in an even deeper state of utter bewilderment than before.

The cool night air clears my senses as I push open the wooden doors leading to the streets of Whiterun. Farkas' words still ring in my ears and bring yet more confusion. Perhaps they simply could not put up with anymore of my constant pacing and melancholic behaviour. I cannot recall my last hunt; the beast blood is always calling me, but I resist the urges. Maybe this thick cloud of stress will dissipate if I turn… No. I made a promise to Kodlak. His death does not mean I should abandon my vow.

I do not know where my feet are taking me, but I let them carry me onwards regardless. Above me, the moons cast their pale glows across the night's sky, illuminating the streets. Stars are scattered in the swirling aurora and I am almost too absorbed in the sheer beauty of Skyrim's landscape to hear the gates swing open and see the cloaked figure enter the city. The familiar scent of pine needles and Mountain Flower floods my senses, and before I can fully process what I am doing, I am pacing over to where they stand.

Ava.

It can't be. She died. Died at the maw of the World-Eater… Or so the rumours had said. Yet as I stand before her, my mind soon accepts that this is no dream. Beneath the jagged scar that runs from her left cheek to the bridge of her nose, parts of the old Ava still resides, though she is almost scarcely recognisable. Her eyes, although lifeless and weary, are still the same deep blue they were before. It is almost as though the passing of time was kind to her.

I reach for her and she tenses suddenly. I let my arm drop to my side, but the rigid nature of her stance does not fade. "Ava?"  
"You know it's me." Her voice cracks as the words leave her scarred lips. There is no warmth in her statement, no sense of emotion; only coldness.  
"I-I thought…"  
"You thought I was dead. I hear it a lot."  
"You were gone three years."  
"I am aware of that." She sighs deeply and pulls her cloak tightly around her body.  
"What in Oblivion happened to you? Do you know…"  
An exasperated sigh cuts me off. "Vilkas, please. Not tonight." She goes to step around me but I catch her wrist and she turns to face me once more. "What?"  
"I have spent the past three years believing you were dead. I lost the person I loved, and yet when I finally get her back, she shuts me out. Do you even know what that is like, Ava?"  
"You know that I do." She spits out through gritted teeth. I can see the tears forming in the corners of her eyes as she desperately tries to bite them back like she always used to do, lest she show a moment of weakness. I release her arm and she walks away, muttering something in a language I cannot understand.

Once again, I am left alone; forced to watch her retreat back into the shadows I lost her to before.


End file.
